A Most Unseemly Ritual
by IpsumAdVeritas
Summary: The Fifth Blight has been defeated, almost before it had begun. The Hero of Ferelden, Adric Cousland, has miraculously survived, and is helping the King clean up the remains of the Darkspawn horde. For his companions, this is one last adventure together. For Morrigan, it is one last desperate delay before the choice she knows she must make. An Origins one-off.


Adric Cousland crouched atop the cliff, his hands on the hilts of his swords. He didn't know it, but he was nearly mirroring Duncan as he gazed down upon the mob of darkspawn that were haphazardly retreating southward. He turned to face the witch who had suddenly appeared from the copse behind his position.  
"Morrigan." it was her name, and never sweeter than when he said it. Their eyes met, and both softened, just for a moment. Morrigan stood next to him - perhaps a bit closer than was absolutely necessary - to survey the disorganized beasts below them.  
"Choke point 2 miles ahead. Sten, Leliana and Loghain will lead the contingents of Alistair's men and seal it. Wynne and half the Circle volunteers will be with them, controlling the battlefield and providing support. You will lead the other half of the mages and seal the valley with fire." Adric saw Morrigan's mouth twist with distaste, and he gave her a look. She met it with a calculated obliviousness, and he sighed. It was a discussion they'd had many times. He'd sought to convince her that by leading others she could help shape a better world. She was convinced that idiots were a known constant in the world and managing them only lowered the intelligence of all involved.  
"Zevran, Shale, Oghren and I will lead shock squads to keep them in disarray and force them towards our soldiers at the mouth of the valley. Advance the fire as they retreat." Adric finished. Morrigan nodded. They had all gone over the plan hours before. The words weren't important though. Not as such.  
"This is the last group of any size." The Hero of Ferelden turned away from her, staring toward the horizon. In reply, Morrigan twined her hand in his, drawing comfort and will from his warm, rough hands. He was always so warm.  
"I must do this." the words came out thicker than Morrigan had intended, and she looked down. A pebble, disturbed by her sudden motion, bounced off of the edge and down the rocky slope.  
"Have you thought any more about..." He said, his voice soft. Morrigan's eyes flashed, but she said nothing. Saying more would mean she'd have to let go of his hand, and they had precious little time left.

A flag whipped up and down on the opposite cliff face. Adric turned to look at Morrigan one last time, his eyes unfathomable again, and he said simply,  
"It is time." The pair released hands, and strode purposefully toward their assigned positions. Adric took his place among the shock troops, and Morrigan gathered the mewling babes the other called mages. Another flag whipped up and down, and Adric shut the visor on his helm and drew his twin blades. His soldiers cheered, rage giving energy to the sound, and followed suit. A third and final flag whipped in circles on the cliff top.

And so it began.

* * *

 _(Night - the eve before the battle.)_

"No! Absolutely not!" Morrigan nearly shouted. She poked Adric on his broad chest, hard. "I'm not some common harlot or air-headed _trophy_ to leash and leave to wilt!" Adric, in his absolutely _infuriating_ way, did not react either to the poke or the shouts. The firelight flickered, making his five-o-clock shadow seem deeper than it was. He paused, and ran a hand through his short dark hair.  
"You misunderstand -" Morrigan whirled on him.  
"Do _NOT_ tell me what I do and do not comprehend. I will not be domesticated!" Adric winced ran a hand over his face. Then, of all things, he sat down. He sighed.  
"Tell me of ritual magic." She glared at him.  
"Are you dropping the subject?" She glanced away, and muttered, "I knew staying this long was a mistake." Turning back, she saw a flicker of pain cross his blue eyes, before he resumed a mask of impassiveness.  
"For the moment."

"What do you wish to know?" Morrigan asked warily.  
"Start with... Redcliffe." He looked pointedly at her midriff, and she crossed her arms over it - him - instinctively. Just to be obtuse, she said,  
"The ritual used to eliminate the demon that held the Guerrin's foolish scion was a simple one. An ancient one, predating the Chantry, but it will serve as an adequate example." Adric leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, paying rapt attention to her. She moved a stump they were using as a chair opposite him, unconsciously exaggerating the sway of her hips. She sat, resting her staff across her knees, and continued.  
"All rituals involve three things. A subject, a sacrifice, and a ..." She frowned. "negotiator." Adric raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Morrigan continued, "The negotiator is the one who draws the runes, who opens the fade. The sacrifice powers the ritual."  
"Powers how?"  
"The fade is, in simple terms, potential. 'Tis that which may be, and what might have been. To replace that which is, with a state that might be requires energy - a trade." Adric nodded slowly.  
"But what is traded is variable?" Morrigan nodded, and said nothing, allowing her love to work through it himself. "Isolde's life, or 50 pounds of lyrium, the potential there is the same?"  
"Indeed. The negotiator..." Morrigan motioned vaguely. "Finalizes the trade, then unleashes the potential upon the subject. In the boy's case, this is potential was that one would be in the fade where the spirit exercised control."  
"Beings of the fade cannot be acted directly upon in these rituals?" Morrigan looked at Adric, pleased.  
"Hardly. Binding them merely requires a reversal - an anchor here, instead of in the Fade. As the boy was already the spirit's anchor, tying it someplace else would have done little."  
"The subject was Connor, I assume." Adric said. Morrigan nodded. Silence passed between them, their private campfire crackling merrily. "

"They are not so different." Adric said slowly.  
"Oh? Are you next going to call the archdemon and an alley cat brothers on account of their claws?" Morrigan replied, her mouth curling in anger. Adric pressed on, ignoring the acid in her tone.  
"A continuous one. Where we are the subject." Adric bunched his eyebrows. "It formalizes a bond, sacrificing all other possible bonds, sacrificing some personal ambition and willpower for it. The..." he glanced up at Morrigan. "one who officiates is the negotiator, who makes the proper rites and publicizes it."  
"And what of those who break this 'bond'?" Morrigan said, her voice mocking.  
"What of those who interrupt or break a more magical ritual?" Adric responded calmly. "They find that it no longer has any power." He added softly, "And that what they sacrificed is lost." Morrigan looked away for a second, then turned back, her yellow eyes hard.  
"Are you certain you do not ask out of a misplaced sense of noble propriety?"

Adric stood suddenly, and Morrigan flinched, her hand going to her staff.  
"Noble propriety demands I keep any union with a swamp witch to a dalliance. Noble propriety would demand I be ashamed of anything we had. Noble propriety would lock you up or send you away where you could do no harm to my reputation." He snarled. He took a step closer, his eyes maintaining their intensity, but losing the anger. "I do not ask to in order to leash you, or to appease some fickle social rule. I ask because I would have no other. I ask becasue I would declare my devotion before the Maker and men, and dare them to break it." He turned and strode off into the woods, his footsteps silent even in the storm of his frustration.

Morrigan, shaken, hastily wiped away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. " _Weakness"_. she hissed to herself.

* * *

Morrigan raised her staff high, and let off a flash of green light. Archers, placed carefully along the slopes of the valley, unleashed their volleys at the darkspawn. Reactively, the beasts turned to rush up the hills, to have the shock troops slam into their back lines. Morrigan saw Adric leading his charge down the thick of the resistance, his armor bright in the morning light. She turned to her own contingent of mages, and gave a signal. They began their motions in unison, and soon a gigantic gout of flame spread in a massive line across the valley, cutting off any route of escape for the darkspawn. Motioning to her lieutenant - the least imbecilic of the mages under her command - she turned and blasted one of the panicked darkspawn as it tried to escape the conflagration. Her lieutenant shouted, and the wall of fire advanced. Seeing one of the squads of shock troops approaching the wall, she cleared a section, and they rushed through, panting. Oghren waved at her, grinning lustily. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the towering flame.

"Back into the breach lads!" Oghren roared, and his squad cheered and lined up behind him. Morrigan cleared a spot in the flame again, and they rushed back through, further besetting the trapped darkspawn. Morrigan glanced around, and motioned for one of the circle mages to take over for her.

She could do it now. Change into a crow and fly away. No one would notice she was missing until well after the mop up. And Adric -

Well, Adric would understand. He'd have to. She had to raise their child away. Away from everyone, away from ridiculous human pressures or norms. Away from corrupting influences. It needed only to be what it was - an Old God reborn.

The flames roared on, and the Darkspawn screamed - whether in fear, rage, or frustration no one knew. No one was paying any attention to her.

Morrigan hesitated.

* * *

When Morrigan entered the enclosure that the rest of their band was seated in, every single one of them gave her a furtive look.

"What have I done to earn your ire this time?" She snapped. Loghain, who was seated with his back to a tree, rolled his eyes and said,  
"There might be a few people a league away who don't know you and the Warden were arguing."  
"'Tis hardly your business what we discuss." She sneered. Loghain stared flatly at her and said nothing. She broke the look first, and snorted in disdain. Approaching the pot, she grabbed her own portion of the stew, and sat down next to Shale, who was staring wistfully at the bubbling pot suspended over the fire.  
"It values you." The golem said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. "You seem far too breakable to me, but it values you." The golem leaned over, peering at Morrigan. "Hmm. Definitely twig-like." Morrigan glowered at Shale, who had the gall to look pleased with herself.  
"I really don't know what bothers you about it." Zevran said, playing with one of his many knives. "Consider this: He's rich, he's handsome, he's a national hero, he slew an archdemon, and he's your brand of insane." The elf grinned cheekily at Morrigan's glare.  
"He's been very sweet, and he simply adores you." Leliana added, with a bit of a wistful sigh.  
"Bah. Marriage is a mess." Oghren said through a slurp of stew. Morrigan slammed her wooden spoon into the bowl, and stood up. She stalked out without saying a word, taking her dinner with her. Wynne stared after her, eyes reflecting concern.  
"Was it something I said?" Oghren asked, wiping juice off of his mustache.

* * *

A high keening sound reach Morrigan's ears, and the flames near her flickered, an evil green light engaged in battle. She saw a Hurlock Emissary waving his staff at the wall, with a small group of Genlocks around him. Moving without thinking, she called up a familiar coldness, and struck out, sending a spear of ice into the ranks. The Emissary plowed on his staff flaring with splotchy purple sparks. Growling, Morrigan charged, leaping over the fire, and changing as she did so. A bear landed on the ranks, and threw the Genlocks left and right. One raised its blade and swung, and caught only air. Morrigan had shifted back. She spun, whirling her staff about. The ranks froze around her. She planted her staff into the ground, hard, and a wave of force exploded around her, shattering the darkspawn and sending bloody ice-chips everywhere. And still the Emissary was casting. It glared at her and conjured a wave of its own fire, sending it roaring towards her. She shifted again, and a crow caught the rush of wind, flying free of the blast. She changed back mid-air, angling herself downwards. She fell with precision, her staff catching the Emissary on its rotting face. They landed, and flame blasted out around them at impact. At the center of the crater, only bloody chunks remained of the Emissary. A raven pecked once at one, as if to make sure it was dead, then took off, flying south and west.

Several hours later, Adric stared out over the burning field, silent as the men around him cheered and broke out celebratory kegs. Wynne walked up to join his vigil. They stood in silence for awhile, watching the last embers of the once-massive fire sparkle and die in the night.  
"She's gone, isn't she?" Wynne said finally, compassion making the words heavy. Adric turned the plain steel band about in his hand. He looked down. Wynne put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Adric turned his head up again, staring into the moonlit horizon.

"I will find her."


End file.
